Limited Capacity
by luvsanime02
Summary: Clint tries to enlist some help, though there's some miscommunication along the way.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own Marvel comics or characters or movies, and am making no money off of this fic.

**AN:** Written for the October 22nd Spooktober prompt: pumpkin carving.

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**Limited Capacity** by luvsanime02

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Clint buys three pumpkins. Three gigantic pumpkins, the smallest of which weighs over two hundred pounds. He quickly realizes that carrying all of them by himself is not happening, and promptly texts Steve.

_help me carry my pumpkins_

Clint gets a response back two minutes later, which he figures is fast for Steve. When he sees the guy's text, though, Clint has to put his head in his hands and laugh hysterically for a minute, ignoring the fact that he just hit himself in the face with his phone. Worth it.

_...Is that slang for sex now? _

Briefly, Clint debates saying yes, just to see what Steve's reply would be to that, but no. As hot as Clint finds Steve, he's pretty sure the other man isn't interested in Clint like that. And besides, Clint's still standing in the middle of this pumpkin patch with three huge pumpkins in front of him and no way to get them back to his apartment.

_nah need some heavy lifting sending the address_

Hopefully, that'll reassure Steve that Clint wasn't sending him a more seasonal-themed invitation to Netflix and chill. On second thought, Steve probably doesn't even know what Netflix and chill means. Maybe.

Clint wishes that there was an easy way to ask now without their signals getting mixed up again. Oh well.

He doesn't have to wait long, but when Steve comes walking towards Clint, he wants to put his face in his hands again. This time in despair. Steve is dressed in his leather jacket and old jeans, and he never wears that specific combination unless he drove his bike.

Steve stops and stares at the three pumpkins in front of Clint. "Uh," he says eloquently.

"Yeah," Clint agrees. He pulls out his phone again and texts an SOS to Natasha. Not a mission-related SOS, of course, but a casual one, along with the coordinates. Natasha will probably show up in a flashy sports car, but at least that will be able to hold one pumpkin. Hopefully.

Clint didn't think this through at all. He walked here. In his defense, he hadn't been planning on buying three large pumpkins before he arrived. Still.

"Why do you need pumpkins that huge?" Steve asks, walking over to stand next to Clint. To his great relief, Steve isn't acting weird about their little miscommunication earlier. Clint can work with pretending that the whole thing never happened in the first place. He's an expert in that kind of stealth by now.

"Ever seen Halloween Wars?" Clint asks.

There's a pause where Steve is clearly trying to figure out what that could possibly be. "No," he admits eventually.

Clint nods. He didn't think so, but it never hurts to check. "Addictive TV show about creating Halloween-themed sets with pumpkin carving, sugar crafting, and cake baking."

Steve looks very interested. Clint foresees a lot of Halloween Wars reruns in their immediate future. "Are you trying to go for a whole set, or just the pumpkin carving?" he asks, and haha, no.

"Just the pumpkin carving," Clint explains. He doesn't feel even remotely qualified to try sugar crafting or cake baking.

Steve's quiet for a few minutes, eyeing the pumpkins thoughtfully. Clint's not really surprised when Steve starts walking through the pumpkin patch, obviously determined to buy some of his own.

Clint really, really hopes that Natasha shows up in something with more space than the Lamborghini she's been favoring lately. At least something that has a decent trunk. Surely that's not too much to ask, right?

"Did you at least bring the side car?" Clint yells to Steve, who is standing about fifty feet away now and holding up two pumpkins, comparing them. The fact that they're both very large isn't bothering him at all, but he's attracting some attention from the incredulous people around him.

Clint's well aware that he didn't need to shout in order for Steve to hear him, but people notice when you start talking to yourself and are expecting an answer back - which is what he would have looked like if he'd spoken at a normal volume - and Clint doesn't need to deal with his own carefully cautious looks from the people around him. He'd rather remain unremarkable, even in a civilian setting like this. Habit.

Steve turns and gives him a guilty look that answers his question perfectly. Clint sighs. He should have just called an Uber.


End file.
